grade school

Poem: Cruel Scars

AndrewHalterOmniblog, , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Bulging blood slipstream, I emerged into air

annoying and bored, divided red into slots

pachinko bubble maelstrom, all us roaring scavengers

feasting on the flow of chaff, strafe and circle triggering

a button-mash uppercut, charlie brown bouncing

along a bright blue light, dart and tagging daylight

showers afloat and smiling, losers were white-washed wet

tasting the ground on the asphalt, deaf and numb to them

I’m sorry Scott at end Eric, I would cut you and laugh

in ways I may have felt justified, I floated a giggling

coliseum spectator, I was justified vile

I’m sorry Scott, I posed a phantom enmity

for you you were very funny, but your chuckle gurgled

and you wiped boogers, and on your bare arms

or so they said, though I never saw it

I could imagine it, you could’ve been a big bully

instead you were gross, sweet and gentle and icky

with a heart of gold, but I don’t know what good I did

as I could’ve met your gaze, fuller pressed your palm

but they were watching, but I was small and weak

in frame and spirit, I can’t lose what friends I have

I daily sanctified, my faith in the laughter

and brotherly revelry, sweeping the world away

with our callous nature, cackling at victims

mocking virus infection, nothing is at all authentic

in my irony chain mail, no skin is exposed

as plates become spines, none may near me

for I never think about them, what do I care I ask

about my conceptual guilt, a fact sober puddle showing

we are all what we all are, for now and forever on.

 

I reject my own theory, I am not cruelty incarnate

or an ape with a club, there is more to society

built on bone rubble holes, sunken in a black hole

wealth sucks within, coaxing a violent flame

for art’s sake, an implanted desire of life that is

art can be subverted, directed to poison its own ends

expounding on an evil, seducing the weak and venal

kindness loving loyalty, we can love the oppressors

trusting molesters and nazi’s, trusting scammers and thieves

till in the mirror is a stranger, so we are to know how

the greatest good is reason, daily dedicate ourselves

signing the pledge of truth, true now and ever we know

no hate love or sympathy, we must follow Kant

by categorical imperative, golden rule redux is

the maxim by which you act, should work for all

to do what everyone should, even though they won’t

one must hold himself above, serenely overlooking

morality landscapes, wrong is was will be wrong

adolescent ankle cutting, as I once participated in

I know and I’m sorry fellas, but I think this is it

for poetic apology, children are cruel as I was

cannibal pundits in a pit, soul-sucking clown poison

either you’re a victim, or you’re a torment storm

for silence is no acquittal, we all did or allowed it

because it happened, but now what’s to do but

apologize to their faces, this will never happen

nor to their voices or eyes, just to this poem,\

which I think this is enough, it’s all they’ll get anyway.

Poem: Cruel Scars

Poem: Villain

AndrewHalterOmniblog, , , , , , , Leave a comment

Regret is a bastard, that smarts as a reflected

sun in the eyes, grinning wet saliva sucking, like,

glowing in a fold of your brain, singing a memory

through grey matter, you close your eyes tight,

“Eric,” you call silently to the wind, “I’m sorry”

mouthing an apology, and he’s not even here

but it’s the best he’ll get, because there’s a voice

in me that is a question mark, calling shame

as it opens my eyes, “I’m sorry, Scott,” I say aloud

because I really did like you, and I would’ve

hung out more often, really I would, but

the myriad of reasons are pointless,

I could’ve pushed past, it is no excuse

for any callous laughter I may have joined

in or created, I was no hero when I was young.

 

However, in the long view, there were worse

infinitely than I was, I incarnate not just wrath

or a ripping spite, never achieving true big shot

status, which is all that matters in the sandbox,

construction sites and board rooms, quien es mas

macho man, so raise a saber get to death

dealing, cruelty is conflict fungus, growing

within the wines of warriors and refugees

alike, so don’t forget how awful it was, to see simple

justice, because it doesn’t exist in the world

you know, but guidelines exist you’re glad

to know about, like the categorical imperative,

and even with the example, I say my neighbor

had it coming, shouldn’ta been talkin’ shit,

for we all must igloo, humanity seems a torture

storm, grade school is only the beginning.

 

Is a lesson therein, or herein depending

on which of us is talking, is the lesson

of caution, nihilism, or cautious nihilism,

like a life-art suicide, Harold with a backbone

would’ve made for a short movie, though,

also love is real, glowing technocolor

in the trenches, because even camaraderie

makes life seem like living, for worth it

shines behind clouds, drying us all together

on an upward slope, regret burning

paper puppets in the sky, on the page

and the desk in the desert, because it is lonely

business to recount my wrongs, but worth

it, I suppose, if people know that I’ve tried

at least, this I suppose is not nothing.

Poem: Villain

Poem: Cruelty Scars

AndrewHalterOmniblog, , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

bulging blood slipstream, I emerged into air,

annoying and bored, divided red into slots,

we’re we all alike, all us roaring scavengers,

mouth-made laser blast, strafe and circle triggering,

button-mash uppercut smash, charlie brown bouncing,

heavenly sun run games, dart and tagging daylight,

but I still feel guilty, losers were white-washed wet,

all of them red facing none, deaf and numb to them,

I’m sorry at end Jimmy, I would cut you and laugh,

it was just revenge, but I floated giggling,

a coliseum spectator, I was justified vile,

I’m sorry Saul, I posed a phantom enmity,

you were very funny, but your chuckle gurgled,

and you wiped boogers, and on your bare arms,

hearsay that I believed, I never saw it,

and you were big, you should have been a bully,

instead you were gross, sweet and gentle and icky,

I think I tried to help, but I don’t know the good done,

I could’ve met your gaze, fuller pressed your palm,

but they were watching, but I was small and weak,

small frame and spirit, if they target me I’d perish,

and I had friends, and they invited me over,

laughing at my jokes, every each of us implicit,

we all cheered the pain, cackling at victims,

mockery virus infection, nothing is at all authentic,

irony chain mail checkerboard, no skin is exposed,

but plates become spines, and none may near me,

I never think about them, what do I care I ask,

and my guilt is conceptual, I just know I should be,

we are all what we all are, for now and forever on.

 

I reject my own theory, I am not cruelty incarnate,

this is just our basest, there is more to society

towers are no progress, built on bone rubble holes,

and wealth sucks within, coaxing a violent flame,

even art carries thirst, an implanted desire of life,

art can be subverted, directed to poison its own ends,

expounding on an evil, seducing the weak and venal,

kindness loyalty and trust, see can all be bad if directed,

trusting molesters and nazi’s, loving scammers and thieves,

it can and has all happened, so we are to know how,

the greatest good is reason, daily dedicate ourselves,

the initial is most incorrect, true now and ever we know,

no hate love or sympathy, we must follow Kant,

the categorical imperative, golden rule redux,

the maxim by which you act, should work for all,

do what everyone should, even though they won’t,

one must hold himself above, serenely overlooking,

morality does not depend, wrong is was will be wrong,

adolescent ankle cutting, is wrong and so was I,

I know and I’m sorry fellas, but I think this is it,

a message in a poem, children are cruel as I was,

cannibal pundits in a pit, soul-sucking clown poison,

either you’re a victim, or you’re a torment storm,

silence is no acquittal, we all did or allowed it,

because it happened, but now what’s to do,

apologize to their faces, but that won’t happen,

nor to their voices or eyes, just to this poem,

I think this is enough, it’s all they’ll get anyway.

Poem: Cruelty Scars